Monday, 25 January 2016

Not knowing from where
it issues, a rhinoceros say,
the word, the creature that it is,
the idea, genesis,
history, habitat...
you'd think the wonder of it
would virtually kill us stone dead
with amazement,
gratitude, delight;
language, stirred up out of our mouths,
indentured with meaning, discovery, exuberance,
our communal mind stuttering, seeking the match
for the observed grand thing,
the experience.

lest we forgetlest we forget
It used to rain properly then, after the war
and it was cold, no heating
bluestone walls
handknits with holes where the worn-out wool was frayed
wide enough to stick your finger in

the asphalt in summer burned our feet
and we "got the strap"

Yet genius dug deeply into its family plots
the small shovel of enquiry scraping up
against whatever was planted there

authentic poems leaned down from the flowering gums
authentic poems hid in the corners of unfurnished rooms
and bit into salty potato cakes
and noticed where a teacher put his hands

mischievous rats scampering in the night
the rabbito man on his rounds

authentic poems
scrambled and scribbled in spelling books
and recipe books
disclosing how it is, and how it was,
inviting bitterness

the visiting magician's wand
rabbits from hats

authentic poems, lest we forget,
made cause for punishment and screams
torn up and ridiculedlest we forget, lest we forget
and sacrificed to fire

their narrative warmth
sparks rhythm to flame
scorching the flimsy summer frock of childhood
slow-burning a hole in its fabric
wide enough to stick your finger in

wide enough for your whole hand to fit...
authentic poems are written there on skin.

Wednesday, 6 January 2016

Is it our warm hearts and handsmelting the ice?Our grasp of global?(our understanding being not limited orprovincial in its scope)Ah! we might wish to be so warm,so heartfelt, universal,human, pulsing with the hot blood of caring,evolving to be sisters, brothers."Share with us" we'd cry warmly,to people with nothing, desperate people,broken, assaulted people;"Together we'll demolish barbed fences,lay down these black weapons of condemnation,rebuild the righteous barricadesand light small campfires against their timbersfor our mutual sustenance."Then the ice choking our arteriesmight deliquesce, a timely thaw melting itall the way downto the frozen old reptilian bones.

Reading at book launch

About me

My poetry is a part of my life, that creative part so vital to our human individuality. It has been a lifelong habit, scribbling words down, from childhood on through adolescence, adulthood and now into mature older age.

I love the process that takes the poet from the raw first phrases on through the building of themes and expressed ideas and finally to the crafting of a satisfying work. The sharing of that creation with others is the icing on the cake.